To be so tired, I didn't sleep that well. Kept waking up and thinking about John, hands tied, and enduring that horrible breathing tube and pain from the surgery. He had a 5+ inch cut just under his left breast with 11 staples. Sort of looked like a smiley face mouth. Then there was the drainage tube about the size of your finger coming out of a hole in his tummy. Though I knew he was being well cared for, he is nurse Stacey was a cracker Jack and I knew she had to be good to be there, I just wanted to be with him and make sure everything was being done to get that tube out as soon as possible.
So, about 5:30, I got up and started the day. The drive was uneventful and it looked like it was going to be another hot, humid day in eastern NC. I didn't make coffee at home, so I decided to stop at Starbuck's and pay an exorbitant amount for a good cup of coffee. And it was good.
Next stop, 4th floor Heart Institute. I went right in to be with John. His nurse said he had a good night. Now, I just needed to know what John had to do to have the breathing tube removed and when 'might' we expect that. She told me they would be taking blood samples periodically. Those samples would be sent to the lab and results automatically sent back via computer within 30 minutes. When he had two consecutive blood samples that met the requirements, the tube could be removed. It 'may' be done that day. If, by a certain time....say 7 p.m., if his numbers were still not good, then the decision would be made to do it the next day, which was Saturday.
Of course, it became my mission to make sure it was out that day. I could look at his face and see a grimace, he was not happy. After being with him for awhile, he started to awake. Every time his eyes would open, I could see distress. Almost a look of, what's going on? Where am I? So, with a smile on my face, I started explaining what had happened. The doctor had told me he was giving John something so he wouldn't remember all of this due to the distress associated with the breathing tube and I didn't want him being frightened because he didn't know what was going on.
He was pulling at his hands, not understanding why he couldn't move them. He wanted to be untied, but the nurse and I both explained again why he was unable to move his arms. After a while, I had to go out to the waiting room. It was just too stressful to stay for a long time.
While I was in the waiting room, my friends and family started coming and calling. I had cautioned everyone not to call, I would send out updates via text or email. It is just too hard to contact everyone every time something changed. It's not that I didn't want to call, I just had one main focus, look after my baby. My friends had readily taken on the phone tree role and would call or send out information. Those calls would trigger another group to be called. It worked.
Leslie, sweetheart daughter of my red headed girlfriend with blonde highlights, Watusi (a.k.a Paula) came. Leslie is a physical therapist and a great resource for me during all of this. Don't know what I would have done without her arm around my shoulders telling me how good I was doing.
Her mom was out of town attending a wedding and would be gone for another week. We had made the decision that we wouldn't tell Paula about John's situation and spoil her fun. Paula and her husband, Tony, were on a train ride up north, going to major league baseball games, visiting with old college roommates, and spending time with family she hadn't seen in some time. What could she do other than worry being so far away? Let her have fun, she would find out about all of this soon enough....and Paula would worry, lots....and we wanted her to have fun.
So, with Leslie in tow, I went back to see John. I needed Leslie's help, to look at him, check out the monitors, see all the things I may miss. Not that I didn't think everything was being done for him, I just needed assurance.
As soon as we walked in and spoke, John's eyes opened. The sedation was starting to wear off and he was becoming more alert. Being so tall, and having his head elevated, he had slipped down in the bed. Leslie looked at his feet. "His foot is pressed against the foot of the bed, we need to get him back up in the bed so the pressure doesn't damage the skin on his foot," she said. The nurse came in and Leslie told her he needed to be slid back up. She said she would call someone to help her, but Leslie told her she was a P.T. and could help. They lowered John's head so he was flat and grabbed the sheet under him on both sides, lifted him, and gently slid him back up. John didn't like it one bit but there wasn't much he could do. The alarms were going off again and he was agitated. But...his feet were back up in the bed now.
Leslie checked all the monitors and explained what each one indicated. Showed me where the time for each was noted and we looked at his medications. No antibiotics....that was good. After a few more minutes, we went out of the room.
Leslie had a friend who is a P.A. and was very familiar with this type of surgery and what was involved, so she was our "phone a friend". If we had any questions....phone a friend. She was ever so helpful and let us know what we could do to make sure the breathing tube was removed as soon as possible. I was making friends with all the people working with John and they were ever so admiring of his fortitude. On my next visit back with John, he was completely awake and smiled when I walked in. He was trying so hard to talk, but every time he tried it would start the beeping and alarms.
I got up close to the bed and rubbed his forehead. I said, "Listen to me Baby, you had surgery because you couldn't breathe, remember? The doctor took fluid from around your heart." He nodded his head and tried to talk again. "Don't try to talk, you have a breathing tube in your mouth and it will be there until your blood numbers are good enough for it to be removed. That's what we want today, okay?" He nodded again. The nurse was doing some things and had loosened the ties on his hands. I was ever so frightened he would inadvertently jerk out the tube. But the nurse said, "He has been really good about understanding he can't touch the breathing tube." Even with her assurance, I was still edgy. It would set us back so quickly if the tube was dislodged and he had to be sedated to have it put back in. He wanted something to drink, but she couldn't give him anything. All we could do was put those little wet swabs in his mouth and try to make it better. Though I don't think it helped very much.
John held his right hand up just above his stomach and made a waving motion. He was trying to tell me something. "What is it?" I said. He kept waving his hand...."Do you want something to write on?" He nodded his head, yes.
The nurse went to get a piece of paper and a marker. I grabbed a book to support the paper. He took the marker and tried to write but his hand was so unsteady, he was struggling to hold it still. Slowly but surely he wrote, "I LOVE YOU", and looked at me and smiled. The tears just welled up in my eyes and the nurse said, "That is so sweet". He tried to write more, but the magic marker was just too big for him to control very well, so we grabbed a pen.
Next he wrote, "How much liquid?" Referring to the liquid around his heart. "Almost two liters", I said. He had a look of surprise. I asked if he was in pain? He pointed at his chest and wrote, "I can't move." The nurse told him he could breathe, but the breathing tube was forcing his chest to fill and it would make him think he wasn't able to move his chest, but that was the way it was supposed to feel. Then he wrote, "Friday?" "Yes, it is Friday," I said.
He tried writing something again and I couldn't read it. He was getting weak and discouraged because his hands wouldn't cooperate. Then he pointed at the clock on the wall. I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me. "Do you want to know what time it is?" I said, "It's 2:30 on Friday." He shook he head no....and pointed at the clock again. I didn't know what he was trying to tell me, but then he took the pen and wrote, "Glasses". Bless his heart, he couldn't see. He was trying to tell me he needed his glasses to see the clock.
I had his glasses in my purse and quickly got them. But by that time, he was growing weary and had dozed out again. Wow....did he just do all those things? It was amazing he was able to write and tell me what he was thinking.
His nurse was taking another blood sample. The lab would notify her of the results, but it was unlikely the tube would be removed anytime soon.
To be continued....
PCQ
Monday, August 23, 2010
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